Outdoors: On the hunt at the Worcester Art Museum

Friday

Sep 27, 2013 at 6:00 AM

Mark Blazis Outdoors

I just returned from a wonderful hunt — at the Worcester Art Museum.

Its magnificent entrance powerfully welcomes guests with a grand, early 6th century mosaic hunt scene that once covered the floor of a wealthy Roman's reception room in southern Turkey. Hunting was a favorite activity of the gluttonously excessive and often cruel Roman elite. This dramatic mosaic captures their particular spirit of the chase in all its danger, excitement — and gore.

While many museum pieces dealing with hunting are après-la-chasse braces of hanging birds and hares being readied for the pot in a kitchen, this ostentatious work boldly captures the lethal moment of the hunt when blade meets flesh, and blood spurts from arteries. Spearing was the preferred method for killing big game then.

One hunter is shown spearing a leopard, another a boar. Next to them, a horseman and ground hunter similarly tag-team a lioness. Nearby, a bear is speared mid-rib. Not far away, a lioness is speared far back in the ribs by a horseman, saving a fallen swordsman from its attack. A lone archer meanwhile makes a perfect behind-the-shoulder double-lung shot on a second lion. Throughout, courage — on which Romans put a premium — is proudly displayed.

Though the mosaic also shows a striped hyena, an ibex, a spike-antlered spotted deer and a big-racked red stag, the hunters are clearly pursuing sport rather than food. In that spirit, another horseman with much bravado daringly captures a tiger cub, narrowly evading a potentially fatal encounter with its mother. In the never-ending conflict of man versus nature, man triumphs brutally in this Roman vision.

The last time I studied the mosaic, a special evening celebration with champagne flowing was being held for museum members. Not one of its admirers appeared offended by its life-and-death subject matter.

I wondered how many other masterpieces there dealt with hunting. So while everyone else was celebrating the miraculous arrival of a newly donated Veronese painting, I set off in a different direction through WAM's treasure-filled galleries to find out. Luckily, docent Hank Rose, director emeritus Jim Welu, current director Matthias Waschek, and chief librarian Debbie Aframe had generously offered prior guidance.

My hunt began in the Egyptian Room, where I found a bas-relief on stone titled "Nobleman Hunting on the Nile." The hunter, standing in a tiny boat plying the marshes, holds a throwing stick in one hand and a captured bird in another. The work reflects the Egyptian aristocracy's passion for hunting water birds, which must have been incredibly abundant and very approachable.

Another sculpture of ancient subject matter was Giovanni Bengoni's 19th century marble statue of Diana, goddess of the hunt, with her recurve bow, packed quiver and attentive hunting dog.

Scouting out the European Gallery and being an avid crossbow hunter, I was much taken by the Flemish painter Jan Fyt's 17th century "Crossbow with Hare, Songbirds, Duck, and Hungarian Partridge." While the heavy metal and wood weapon couldn't compare to my graphite Ten Point Vapor that shoots a bolt well over 300 feet a second, it obviously was accurate enough to dispatch small birds. Considering the European never-ending taste for eating little songbirds, like France's ortolans, the painting would not have proven a bit controversial.

Jean Baptise Oudry's 18th century still life of Hare, Red-legged Partridge and Snipe was similar in content but showed no weapon. It wasn't particularly noteworthy — except for a comment attached next to it: "This type of subject matter may seem a bit distasteful to the modern viewer." I wondered what modern viewer would be offended by this still life. I found nothing tasteless about it. Of course, I'm a hunter, used to independently securing my own food. For me, game is most beautiful alive — and deliciously beautiful properly prepared on the table.

Having been to the Louvre in Paris last June, I noted many hunting still lifes there. None had a personal editorial comment like this one. I guessed the distasteful comment was written by someone with little first-hand knowledge of our hunting tradition or eating game. I wondered if the writer would find the steaks on a meat market shelf a distasteful display, too. I wondered if the same writer would similarly criticize the death scenes of Goya and David.

Excited by the prospect of what I might find next, I proceeded to Joachim Buekelaer's hunting still life, which included a female rabbit missing the top half of her ear. This clipping was performed back then to protect females for increased production, much the way lobstermen today notch the tails of egg-bearing females. Since hunters were supposed to spare ear-clipped females, I wondered why Buekelaer chose to paint her slain.

I eagerly continued game scouting in the American Gallery, noting Ralph Earl's 18th century painting of "A Man with A Gun." Dapperly posing with his musket, he stood with his two attentive hunting dogs. I'm not sure of their breed, though they appeared to be pointers or hounds.

I ended my hunt where I began — but with many new thoughts. High above the ancient floor mosaic on the "Wall at WAM" was "These Days of Maiuma, 2013," a giant contemporary 17- by 67-foot photographic mural by Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison. It was commissioned by the museum to be a conceptual counterpoint to the Roman era mosaic below. Unlike the non-judgmental ancient work, it seeks to tell a far different tale, with citified criticism implicit in its blatant symbolism.

It is a strangely provocative piece, and may prove especially so for those who know and cherish the tradition of deer hunting. There are no faces shown on the mural other than that of a six-point whitetail. The big buck, still dripping blood, is carried towards a reclining, pearl-covered woman of decadence, lying on a table of excess and waste. Like this ostentatiously fashion-clad lady who appears to have consumed far too much wine and food, the anonymous deer-carrier arrives wearing shiny city shoes and city pants. He's unlike any hunter I've ever known and could have hit the deer with his car, for all we know. The deer brought to this party had to be killed just moments before, considering its drooping, muscle-relaxed position not yet solidified by rigor mortis.

Only its positioning above the great ancient mosaic connects it to real hunting, which today is scientifically managed to make wise use of natural resources. Its presentation with images of debauchery is an affront to all ethical hunters and dedicated wildlife biologists. For me, the deer image doesn't work at all as a statement of truth.

I couldn't see all the Worcester Art Museum's hunting works of art. Anton Mirou's 16th Century Return from the Hunt, I was told, is currently in storage. I'll surely be back to resume my hunt for it there, as well as to admire the many underappreciated world-class treasures, including the Turners, El Greco's, Renoir's, Gauguin's, Monet's (my favorite), Cezanne's, and, of course, the new Veronese. But that special gallery hunt will likely be sometime after deer season.

Outdoors calendar

Saturday — StriperFest, "The biggest fishing party in the Northeast," sponsored by On the Water Magazine, 1-7 p.m., under the Big Top in Marina Park, Scranton Avenue, Falmouth. Cost: $10.